Overheard in a Dream (50 page)

“I was trapped,” she said, her voice plaintive. “It felt like Fergus could still destroy my life without doing a thing.”

“Okay, but by not telling Alan about such an important thing, you give the impression of trying to control everyone’s life. Or else that you are simply ruthlessly censoring out whatever doesn’t suit you. I get the sense that you enjoy the freedom of not being confined to normal notions of what’s real and what’s not. With your kind of thinking, if Alan doesn’t know his son has been threatened – doesn’t perceive that – then it doesn’t exist for him, does it? You can treat it as if it didn’t happen.”

Laura was looking down at her hands. She didn’t answer.

“You may have managed to keep Alan in his place,” James said, “but what about Conor?”

“Conor?”

“If these events are real, then he experienced them all alongside you.”

“He was just a baby, though. Far too young to have been aware of any of it.”

“When was the last time you saw Fergus?” James asked.

There was a long pause before she finally said, “The night Morgana was conceived.”

“Would you tell me what went on that night?” James asked.

She hesitated, then sighed heavily.

James waited quietly

“That night,” she mumbled. “That night, that night, how do I talk about it?”

Silence.

“I knew the situation had got serious. I took out a restraining order, so that I could get the police there, if I needed them, because I knew we were in real danger. That’s when Alan found out, so we did talk about it then. I couldn’t go into the
detail. I just couldn’t bear Alan thinking of me like I was in those years with Fergus. ‘Demented fan’ pretty much said what was going on. Once Alan realized that he had an unhealthy interest in Conor and me … he was so protective. It nearly broke my heart knowing I was the one who had put our family in that danger.

“Fergus then vanished for about three or four months. Alan believed we’d chased him off and I only hoped we had. But then I was coming back to the ranch one afternoon, there was a car parked in a pull-out to a picnic grounds, near where our road meets the highway. No one was in the car, but in the rear window the words ‘My queen’ had been written in the dust. It sounds like such a small thing … words written in dust on a back window … but it was like an arrow through my heart.

“Alan was at a cattle auction in Denver, so I was alone on the ranch for about three days, and I was sure somehow Fergus knew this. That was the scariest part about him, that he always
knew
what was going on in my life.

“It was almost a parody of that occasion back when I was in medical school, that night when he’d brought wine to my apartment to welcome me back from the conference, because on this occasion too, he came right up to the front door, wine in hand, and acted as if I were expecting him and would be glad to see him.

“Conor was already in bed, so it was just me, alone. Fifteen miles from anywhere. My instinct was to slam the door in his face and lock it, but I thought that would upset him. I was scared to do that. Instead, I decided to play it cool. I let him in. I let him open the bottle of wine. I let him waffle on about how he was getting all these visions about the ‘new world’, not just
voices anymore but actual visions that he wanted to share with me. Back in the old days I would have thought this sounded very important and mystical, but by that point, quite frankly, he only sounded deranged. I let him talk and drank wine with him and all the while I was madly calculating how best to trigger the security system without his being aware of it.

“When he went upstairs to use the bathroom, I thought here was my chance. I lifted the phone to dial 911 and that’s when I realized he’d cut the line.

“I was so terrified, James. Fergus had to have cut the line before he came to the door, so clearly he had been intending to do something all along. I was desperate to escape, but Conor was upstairs in bed.

“When he came back into the room, I could tell what he intended to do. He pushed me to the ground.

“The rest was just … Well, I think raping me was the whole point of everything. He wanted that kind of power over me, needed it – the humiliation, the degradation – so I didn’t struggle. I thought
I’m not going to be able to save Conor, if I get myself killed
.

“And when it was over … He got up. But he didn’t just walk away. He pulled out his cock and he pissed on me. Then he kicked me. Hard. Here, in the small of my back. As if I were nothing but a dog. Then the door slammed and he was gone.”

There was a long pause. Deep silence settled in around them. James looked at her, but he didn’t speak.

“That was the end of it,” Laura said softly. “The real end. He left me lying there in a pool of piss and I never saw him again. Somehow I knew I wouldn’t. That was the real conclusion of our relationship.”

“And Morgana’s conception?”

Laura nodded.

“Does Alan know the truth about her parentage?”

Laura bowed her head. “I don’t know,” she said wearily. “I can’t imagine he doesn’t see it. But then again, I’m always seeing more than other people see.”

“Was there any chance Conor witnessed any of this between you and Fergus on this last night?” James asked.

“No. He was upstairs in bed asleep.”

“Any idea where Fergus is now?”

“In Hell, I hope.”

“A
picnic?” Becky said sceptically. She pressed her face against the living room window and peered up at the sky. “People usually don’t go on picnics in the winter, Daddy.”

“It isn’t winter. Technically, it’s spring.”

“I don’t think so,” Mikey said. “Stuff’s supposed to grow in the spring. Everything I see is dead.”

“Why do you want to go on a picnic anyway?” Becky asked. “Let’s just go to the mall.”

“And then afterwards we can watch
Spiderman
!” Mikey cried and leaped off the edge of the chair in imitation of his hero.

“Because there’s more to life than shopping and watching DVDs. You can do that in New York. Let’s do something special together that we can only do in South Dakota.”

“Like what?” asked Becky, her tone still sceptical.

“What about the Badlands? You’ve never been out there.”

“Badlands? What’s that? Is it a beach?” Becky asked.

“Badlands! Badlands! That’s where they got lots of crooks!” Mikey screeched. He pushed Becky off the couch.

“Stop it! Daddy, make him stop. He’s being a pain. Give him time out. That’s what Mum does.”

“Mikey, settle down.”

“He’s so stupid,” Becky muttered. “He thinks he’s so smart, but really he’s stupid.”

“You need exercise, don’t you, young man?” James said, lifting Mikey way up in the air above his head. “That’s half your problem. So we’re going to run your steam off. Come on. Get your shoes on. Let’s get this picnic under way.”

Admittedly, it wasn’t really a day for a picnic. Thin high cloud made the sunlight wan and the sky milky. A distinctly cool breeze fluttered the roadside buffalo grass as James followed the interstate east across the high plains.

He wasn’t quite sure why he’d been drawn to the idea of going out to the Badlands. He’d only been once since arriving in South Dakota. It’d been July and so searingly hot that he hadn’t even bothered to get out of the car. He just drove on through the park.

James knew his wanting to go there now had something to do with Laura, with his confused wavering between belief and betrayal, as if something in the alien landscape that had so nurtured her might speak to him too. Mikey had won the coin-flip for the prize of sitting in the front seat on the trip out, but this privilege seemed wasted on him. He had brought two small toy planes along and spent most of the journey engrossed in circling them noisily in the space in front of him. Becky sat in the back and sulked.

“I ought to get to sit up front. I’m older,” she muttered.

James ignored her protests and Mikey’s loud flying noises.

“I always get to sit up front at home. Mum lets me.”

“I’m sure not every time,” James replied.

“He’s just zooming his stupid planes around and he could do that in the back.”

This was true enough but James didn’t say that.

“It’s not fair. We never do anything I want. Mikey always gets to pick.”

“Mikey didn’t pick. He won it fair and square.”

“Well, I didn’t want to come on this picnic. Why couldn’t we just stay home?”

“Because you can ‘stay home’ at home,” James replied. “You’ve just flown 2000 miles to do something different.”

“Then I ought to have got to choose where we’re going,” she muttered. “I wanted to have a picnic at the beach.”

“Becky, we’re in the middle of the continent. There is no beach. You’ll like the Badlands. They’re just like a beach, only hilly. And with no water.”

Glum silence.

Oblivious, Mikey crash-landed one of his planes on the dashboard, making accompanying explosive noises.

“Mikey, don’t do that. This is Uncle Lars’s car and he won’t want scratches.”

“I’m going to be a pilot when I grow up,” Mikey replied.

“Not if you fly your planes like that, you won’t. Why don’t you look out the window for a while?”

“At what?” he asked, peering out at the passing prairie.

“Look for pronghorn antelope. When Daddy first came out here from New York, that was the most exciting part of the journey. I had been driving and driving and driving all the way from New York City and I was
so
tired. I thought, ‘I’m never going to get to Rapid City. I’m never going to see this new place.’ And then I looked out the window and there was
a whole herd of pronghorn antelope in a field near the road. There must have been about twenty of them and I thought, ‘I’m here! I’m really in the West.’”

“Why did you want to be in West?” Mikey asked.

“When a person says ‘the West’ they mean the wide open spaces. Where there are real cowboys. Where the Native Americans used to hunt buffalo.”

“Why did you want to be where cowboys are?”

“Because he didn’t want to be in New York anymore,” Becky piped up. “Daddy didn’t want to live with us.”

“No, Becky, that’s not true. My moving was a grown-up decision between Mum and me. I didn’t want to leave you and Mikey.”

“Are you a cowboy now, Daddy?” Mikey asked.

“Mum says you ran away. When her and Uncle Joey are talking, that’s what she always says. ‘James ran away from his responsibilities.’”

“Did you run away to be a cowboy, Daddy?” Mikey asked.

“No, I did not run away to be a cowboy, Mikey. I didn’t run away at all.”

“Uncle Joey says –”

“Becky, let’s call a moratorium on what Uncle Joey says, okay? Know what ‘moratorium’ means? It’s a nice way of saying it’s time to shut up about Uncle Joey’s opinions. And Mum’s too, for that matter. Because we’re here now, and you’re with me and we’re going to have a wonderful time.”

Mikey looked over. “Did you run away to hunt buffalo, Daddy?”

The eerie thing to James was how, in this broad, flat expanse of grassland, the Badlands could stay hidden so long. Even after they’d passed through the national park entrance, the monotonous sweep of plains continued unbroken right up to the first viewpoint. Then, within the distance of a man’s arm span, the world suddenly sank away, transformed into a jagged panorama of spires and shadows that stretched as vastly towards the horizon as the grassland had before.

“Wow,” Becky murmured, impressed. She leaned against the viewpoint railing. “It must be like a million feet down to the bottom.”

“Pretty far,” James replied.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t want to fall down there.”

“No. Me neither,” James said.

Mikey was more interested in the steps leading from the car park down to the lower viewing area. He kept running up and down them, fast as he could.

“Are we going to have our picnic here?” Becky asked.

“Yup. That sign says there’s some picnic tables just a little further along. Then you guys can have a good run-around.”

“You know,” Becky said, “this place
is
sort of like the beach with all this dirt. Sort of like Long Island, only without any ocean.”

“Don’t kid me,” James replied. “Long Island doesn’t have any beaches that look this good!”

It felt as if they were the only people to visit the park. No cars drove by. No one else showed up to look at the view. Other than the chatter of a few hardy birds, it was startlingly silent.

The sky had remained overcast but the wind had died down, so it grew pleasantly warm for March. The kids shed
their coats and scrambled noisily up and down the grassless pinnacles beside the picnic area while James set out the food. Then they tucked into cold chicken and potato salad before the kids ran off to play again.

Mikey appeared back at the picnic table. “I got to go to the bathroom, Dad.”

“There are toilets right over there. See? Get Becky to take you; she probably needs to go too. Becky?”